


Frerard Football Team AU For Which I Could Not Think of a Title

by franks_hands



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bullying, Fluffy Ending, Football, Happy Ending, Homophobia, M/M, Slight Age Difference, athletic frank, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 18:00:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4715315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/franks_hands/pseuds/franks_hands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the locker room and at practices, Frank was noisy, bordering on obnoxious. He seemed to bounce off the walls sometimes. He didn’t know about personal space.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frerard Football Team AU For Which I Could Not Think of a Title

There were certain rules that came along with being a high school student, and Frank Iero defied almost all of them.

One of those rules was that any feminine-faced, slim-built, barely-over-five-feet-tall male was never to be accepted into a social group of aggressive, muscled, manly men. Somehow, Frank had managed to override that rule before the first day of his sophomore year had even come around.

Gerard remembered seeing Frank at tryouts in August and feeling this small spark of hope. Frank had hair that was short on the sides and long on the top, a weird sort of mohawk that hung down in front of his eyes before he pushed it back and put his helmet on. He was tiny, a lot smaller than Gerard and a lot skinnier than him, too. He had a lip ring.

There was no way this kid, whose name Gerard was yet to discover, actually liked football. He felt connected with the underclassman before even knowing him because he looked like he didn’t belong there. Gerard figured they were probably in similar boats--the boat for kids with parents who wanted to live vicariously through them by forcing them onto sports teams they had no interest in.

But then, Gerard heard his dad call out the last name, “Iero”, and he watched the kid with the lip ring and the punk haircut look up and run over to the coaches, and it was almost in slow motion in Gerard’s head. A real dramatic, heartbreaking scene.

The entire team knew about Frank Iero, even though they’d never met him before. He was a sophomore, transferring from Queen of Peace. In the locker room the guys joked a lot about Coach Way bribing Frank to come play for his team. He was really good, apparently. And so upon realizing Frank’s identity, Gerard’s hope all but disappeared. It looked like it would be another season of getting laughed at during workouts and practices and sitting alone at team meetings. At least it would be the last year.

 

Another rule Frank somehow had found the courage to disregard was the one that underclassmen were to be quiet, to stay out of the way of their older peers, to wait in the background until their time came. In the locker room and at practices, Frank was noisy, bordering on obnoxious. He seemed to bounce off the walls sometimes. He didn’t know about personal space.

He especially didn’t know about personal space in the locker room, to the exasperation of his new hyper-masculine friends. They couldn’t turn their back to Frank without getting smacked in the ass or hugged awkwardly from behind. It was always this big ordeal, Frank’s victim shoving him away and shouting something like, “Get your gay ass away from me, Frankie!”, mostly so that the surrounding teammates would know for certain that he hadn’t enjoyed the contact. Frank would laugh and give the guy a friendly punch on the arm or another pat on the ass, rattling off something about how ridiculously fragile the typical american teenage boy’s masculinity is.

Gerard did his best to ignore Frank’s antics while in the locker room, for a couple of reasons. The first being that he was afraid any semblance of acknowledgement from Gerard would cue Frank in to his existence and then, god forbid, Frank might direct his attention toward the coach’s closeted gay son. The second reason was that Gerard kind of felt jealous when he watched the events take place.

Frank was just really fucking pretty and although a huge part of Gerard didn’t want that kind of attention put on him, a little part of him, buried deep down, wanted Frank to not look at anyone but him.

But Gerard knew that was unrealistic, with how the team’s elite players, your typical popular high school jocks, had embraced Frank into their group. Gerard even heard Frank talking about parties they’d all been at over the weekend. It was sort of strange for Gerard, to picture Frank at a house party, surrounded by all of the meatheads that usually shoved Frank’s type into lockers.

After one of these parties, Frank showed up to Monday’s practice sporting a black eye, given to him by Brendon after Frank had apparently tried to kiss him. Gerard heard the two joking about it from across the locker room, once they were the only three left after practice.

 

The first time Frank actually interacted with Gerard outside of passing glances and brief nods in the school hallways, Gerard found himself on his back, head against the turf, Frank’s small, toned body on top of his.

They were at football practice--tackling was a normal thing to happen. Gerard kept reminding himself of that, over and over and over and especially after it happened a second time, Frank laughing a little inside his helmet and for some reason telling Gerard he looked like a baby deer, waiting just a second too long before removing his weight from Gerard.

After practice, while Gerard changed back into his school slacks and white button-up in one of the bathroom stalls, he tried not to think about the tackle. It was hard not to think about, though, when he left the stall to stop by his locker, and Frank and Bryar were the only two others left in the locker room.

To top things off, Bryar was leaving, giving Frank a big pat on the shoulder and telling him he’d see him that night at Brendon’s house. Another party Gerard hadn’t been invited to.

And then it was the two of them, Gerard and Frank, left alone in a locker room made to accommodate a fifty-person football team. Frank had his school slacks pulled up but they were unbuttoned, a belt hanging unbuckled to either side. He was pulling on his white dress shirt when Gerard glanced at him before quickly fastening his eyes to the contents of his own locker.

“You’re Gerard, right? Coach’s son?” Gerard heard Frank’s casual voice over his shoulder as he semi-frantically shoved his practice clothes into a gym bag.

“Yeah.” He answered, not turning to look at Frank, really not wanting to see him again in his state of half-dressed-ness. Being tackled by him twice and catching that quick glimpse of the skin on his chest was more than enough to make Gerard flustered.

Frank seemed to laugh a little. He was a lot more relaxed than Gerard was, getting dressed slowly and lazily as Gerard pulled together his things and slammed his locker shut, planning on jetting toward the door.

But Frank wasn’t done. “Y’know all the guys call you a fag.”

Gerard resisted the urge to snap something to the effect of tell me something I don’t know. He just rolled his eyes and glanced at Frank again, who was now stuffing his shirt into the front of his slacks, before starting toward the exit.  
Before Gerard reached his destination, though, Frank called out, “Is that true?”, which made Gerard stop and look back over his shoulder, face twisted in confusion.

“That they call me that? I’m sure it is.”

Frank actually did laugh this time, but it was more of a giggle and it made Gerard want to tell the kid a million jokes just so he’d have a chance of hearing it one more time. “No, man. I meant… are you gay?”

The false answer might have been on Gerard’s lips before Frank had even finished his question. It was a reflex Gerard had developed over his high school years. “No.” He didn’t really try to sound disgusted, but he did anyway.

“Oh.” Frank shrugged, “Okay.”

And Gerard didn’t know what the hell he was still doing in there--he should’ve run out by now. He shouldn’t have still been in that situation. He should’ve been in his car, speeding home in a desperate attempt to put distance between himself and this pretty tenth grade boy.

But instead of being in his car, blasting Black Flag to drown out his thoughts, Gerard was still standing there in the locker room, body twisted awkwardly, half toward the door and half toward Frank, and he was suddenly asking Frank, “Are you gay?”

The question didn’t come as a surprise to Frank like it had to Gerard. Frank giggled again and Gerard had mixed feelings. “Are you really asking me?” One of Frank’s eyebrows, which Gerard had already noticed were perfectly shaped and filled in, arched questioningly. When Gerard didn’t confirm or deny, Frank chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest. The cuffs of his sleeves were unbuttoned and loose around his small but firm-looking wrists. “I mean, I thought it was obvious.”

Gerard apparently wasn’t done speaking before thinking. “Y’know… you’re gonna get really beat up one of these days if you don’t ease off on teasing those guys.” Gerard knew all too well what it was like to get beat up by his father’s favorite players, and he’d never even laid a hand on any one of them. Apparently he just looked too queer to them, and that was enough to beat him into next week. The thought of what the guys would do if they ever got past Frank’s charisma and football skills made Gerard feel sick to his stomach.

But Frank just brushed Gerard’s comment off, just rolled his eyes, “It’s nothing I can’t handle. Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I’m some delicate fucking flower, man. Fuck off.”

 

Unlike the other senior players who’d been on the varsity team for four years, Gerard didn’t play on game nights. Unlike the others, he wasn’t on varsity because of skill. Gerard couldn’t really play football at all, and the only reason he was on a football team in the first place was that his dad was controlling and overbearing. He’d always wanted one of his sons to be the star player on Belleville’s football team, just like he’d been back in his glory years.

Gerard was just unfortunate enough to be the elder and less audacious of his father’s two sons. Mikey knew how to say no. He knew how to make Dad change his mind about things. Whereas Gerard was pretty sure he’d never won an argument with his father in his entire life.

Being forced to be on the team but not being good enough to actually play meant Gerard spent countless hours standing on the edge of the turf, in a long line of teammates, some with the possibility of getting into the game and some, like Gerard, knowing that it would be a long night standing there in one spot.

It was the second game of the season that Frank got to play for a varsity team for the very first time.

Before Coach called Frank in, though, the kid had decided to make himself comfy next to Gerard. The first quarter had barely started when Gerard felt someone short nudge up next to him, pushing between Gerard’s side and the side of the player to his right.

Frank grinned up at Gerard through his helmet, “Hey, G.”

Gerard’s stomach twisted. The only person that had called him G in the past four years was Mikey. He didn’t bother to give Frank a response, but Frank pressed on anyway with a casual, “How was your day?” Gerard couldn’t believe Frank was standing there next to him during a game, asking him how his fucking day was instead of focusing on the action in front of them.

“I. Uh. It was fine.” was Gerard’s mumbled response. He was looking at Frank out of the corner of his eye, not really looking directly at him, though, just kind of noticing the way Frank seemed to buzz with energy, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

“Yeah? Hey, what class do you have fourth?”

The question caught Gerard off guard. Why the hell did Frank care about his class schedule? He answered anyway, “Statistics. Why?”

Frank grinned. Gerard was looking at him straight-on now. “I saw you smoking outside from the band room window. Wondered what class you were skipping.”

Gerard blinked at Frank, staring and trying to figure out whether or not Frank had any boundaries.

“Man, after that class I stopped in that bathroom a little further down the music hall to take a piss.” Gerard wondered why Frank was telling him this information. They weren’t friends and this didn’t really seem like information you’d tell your friends, anyway. “And the great thing about that bathroom is that the classrooms around it are almost always empty, right? No one’s ever around.” Frank starts to get this grin on his face, and Gerard can see it through his helmet. “Except it wasn’t empty when I went in. Pete Wentz was in there. You know him?” Frank didn’t stop to give Gerard a chance to answer, “Well guess what?” He didn’t give Gerard a chance to guess. “He blew me in there. Right in the first stall, with the door hanging open a bit.” He laughed, “Can you believe that guy?”

Gerard couldn’t believe Frank. He really, truly had no boundaries. Gerard had to make himself turn his body back around, twist it so that he could focus numbly on the football game happening in front of him, so that he wouldn’t think about Frank, in a bathroom stall, with his slacks and briefs pushed down around his thighs, Wentz down on his knees in front of him, Frank’s head tilted back--Gerard had to stop himself from going on. He knew things like that happened in high schools, he’d heard countless stories, but it still seemed so shocking to hear about, and in such a casual, nonchalant voice.

He needed this game to be over. He needed Frank to not be mere inches away from his side, still bouncing with energy.

He’d never been happier to hear his father’s booming voice call “Iero” down the line of players. Frank gave Gerard a pat on the ass before rushing off towards his father.

 

Frank was disappointed, but he tried not to show it. Maybe it was because Gerard was two years older than him, maybe it was because Gerard didn’t want anything to do with someone who was friends with the guys that had been giving him hell since freshman year. Or maybe Gerard just didn’t find Frank all that attractive.

See, Frank knew Gerard was gay. He knew because Mikey Way had accidentally told him one time when they were working on a U.S. History project together. He knew because of the way Gerard was so defensive about it. Maybe he didn’t really know, not for sure, but he liked to pretend that he knew because believing that was a lot easier than having a crush on a straight boy.

There were a lot of valid reasons for Gerard to not want to have anything to do with Frank, and not all of them were that he maybe wasn’t gay at all. Frank liked reminding himself of this because he thought that all those other reasons were ones he could get around.

One of Frank’s favorite of the qualities he possessed was that he was really fucking persistent. Most people called him stubborn. If he wanted something, he worked his ass off to get it. It was how he’d landed a spot on the varsity team as an underclassman.

Frank had never had a real relationship, not a serious one, but he figured getting into one couldn’t be any harder than it was getting onto the varsity team at Belleville. He’d just have to be persistent, just talk to Gerard again and again until he’d broken some kind of wall down. Until he convinced Gerard that he wasn’t like the pricks he hung out with, that a two years age difference isn’t that big in the grand scheme of things. Until he convinced Gerard that he was attractive, someone Gerard should totally get with.

Persistence meant beginning to talk to Gerard in the school hallways, between classes. Most times, Frank didn’t have time to get in more than a nod or a quick, “Hey, Gerard!” before Gerard had successfully ignored and passed by him.

But just over a month into the school year, Frank was in fourth hour band again when he spotted Gerard outside again, lounging against a tree, puffing out smoke. Frank’s leg bounced up and down for the rest of class, his hands fidgeting with anticipation. The bell couldn’t ring any sooner, but once it did, Frank was up out of his seat and out the doors down the hall in under twenty seconds. Gerard was still relaxed against the tree when he arrived at the spot, and Frank’s breathing had grown ragged from the exertion.

“Hey, Gerard.” Frank huffed, putting a hand against the tree, going for casual but probably looking awkward.

Gerard looked up at Frank. His eyes were guarded. The cigarette between his fingers was being pinched tightly. “Uh. Hi.”

Frank really hadn’t planned what the hell he was going to actually say once he got this far, because up until ten minutes ago, he hadn’t realized this was going to be a situation he’d be in. But it was Friday, and they were going to be playing at a football game that night--er, Frank was going to be playing. Andy had invited Frank to a party at his house afterwards. A bunch of the football guys were going to be there.

“So there’s this party tonight.” To Frank’s relief, his voice didn’t sound quite as uncertain as he felt. “It’s at Hurley’s place. A bunch of the guys are gonna drive there after the game. And you should come.” Frank shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets, “I dunno. Maybe you could give me a ride there, too. We could get there together.”

Gerard stared up at Frank, expression unreadable. He’d lost count of the amount of times he’d thought about how much he just couldn’t believe this kid. What did Frank think Gerard was going to do at a party surrounded by the guys that shoved him against lockers and called him a faggot?

Gerard thought it must’ve been a set up.

“No.” Gerard shook his head simply, snuffing out his cigarette on the dirt underneath him. He didn’t look back up at Frank, whose face had taken on a look of disappointment. It was only after getting up from the ground and starting toward the school doors that Gerard added, “Thanks for inviting me, though.” It was the first time he’d ever been invited to one of the football team’s parties.

 

Frank had drunk alcohol before but he’d never really gotten wasted until he was befriended by Belleville’s popular football player crew. Those boys liked to drink, and they liked to give Frank drinks because he was apparently even funnier when he was drunk. Frank was a loose cannon when he was sober but he was even crazier when he was drunk, Bryar had told him.

So it had become routine, on Friday nights, that the guys would invite Frank along to their parties, and he would get drunk and crash on someone’s couch, and one of the upperclassmen would drive him home the next morning. Sometimes it was just seven of them, cooped up in Bob’s basement, but sometimes Andy or Brendon would have these big house parties and Frank wouldn’t even recognize half of the people there. On this night in particular, it was a big one, because Andy’s parents were out of town and they’d just won a big game against a rival school.

Frank was buzzed before they’d even gotten to Andy’s house. And all he could think about was wishing Gerard had come because he knew within an hour, he’d probably be trying to make out with someone and he knew that it wouldn’t be Gerard. Maybe tonight, he’d actually try to kiss a girl so that he wouldn’t get punched in the eye again. He’d joked about it with Brendon after he punched him the other week for trying to kiss him, but that didn’t mean he wanted it to happen again. It had fucking hurt.

Two hours passed, and Frank hadn’t yet found himself in a makeout session with someone. Lots of other people were making out on couches and in dark corners of Andy’s house, but none of them were Frank and he felt kind of angry. If only Gerard wasn’t such a weirdo that didn’t want to interact with people. Sometimes Frank got really angry when he was drunk. The guys all thought it was entertaining.

He wanted Gerard to be there.

And when Frank opened the bathroom door to take a piss, he almost thought Gerard was there, standing in front of the sink washing his hands. But it was only Jacob. A senior who, suddenly, bore a passing resemblance to Gerard. From the side. When his head was tilted down. When Frank was drunk. He had dark long hair and roughly the same build as Gerard, though his was made up of more muscle. His skin was a few shades darker, but if Frank was really up close, he wouldn’t be able to tell.

Jacob looked at Frank with a bored expression before he closed the door behind him, shutting the two teenage boys in the cramped space together. Frank waited until Jake had dried off his hands before reaching up to kiss him. He was only vaguely surprised when Jake started to kiss back. He was a lot more surprised when he felt hands wandering downwards, over Frank’s jeans.

Frank felt a sudden thrill. This was a lot better than getting punched in the eye. He’d never realized Jacob was gay. Jake had never really stood out to him, but now. Now, Frank had his hands working at the fly of Jake’s pants and Jake was kissing him, rubbing his hands over the back pockets of Frank’s jeans, and now, he was kinda standing out to Frank.

This was fine, this could do for Frank. It wasn’t Gerard but that was okay. Frank was drunk and really warm and kinda desperate, so Jake was good enough.

Frank had Jake’s fly unzipped when the door behind his back swung into him, hitting him in the back and jolting both him and Jake forward a bit. And just like that, Jake was shoving Frank away, spewing words that sounded like disgusting, sick, and faggot. Frank could feel himself being pulled back by someone else, someone a lot bigger than him, someone who was too strong for Frank to be able to yank himself away. He was pulled back through the hallway, back through the room where people were still drinking, and a lot of them were yelling now, getting right up in Frank’s face. Frank heard Jake yell something that sounded like he tried to fucking touch me, the fucking faggot.

Frank was sort of glad he was drunk. He knew he was about to get punched or kicked or something. He wasn’t really sure why they had to do it outside, though. He wasn’t really sure why they had to throw him on the ground on the street in front of the house. He didn’t know why they couldn’t just do it inside and get it over with.

He wished Gerard had come to the party. Gerard maybe could’ve saved him from being thrown on the ground and beaten til he was bleeding, til he maybe had a couple broken bones.

 

The first thing Gerard noticed at practice on Monday was his dad’s face as he passed him on the way to the locker room. His jaw was clenched tight and there were deep lines on his forehead. He looked even more callous than usual.

The second thing was that Frank was not occupying the space in front of his locker, which remained closed and untouched. There was a distinct lack of noisy giggles and loud commotion that Frank usually brought with him into the locker room.

The rest of the guys were present and were acting normal, like nothing was out of place.

Gerard didn’t see Frank until he left the locker room and made his way down to the field. Frank was still dressed in his school uniform, hanging back sort of by the coaches, an almost awkward distance away from the group of men. His right arm was in a sling and he had all of his weight on one leg, as if the other couldn’t take the weight. His face was cast downward, at the track and neither him nor the guys on the team made an effort to interact with each other. It was like a wall had been built up between the two sides--between the football stars and Frank. One that hadn’t been there last time Gerard noticed, at the football game Friday night.

Gerard was curious and sort of concerned for Frank, but he managed to get through practice without dwelling on it too much. After practice out on the field, the entire team and the coaches met in the locker room for a discussion about Friday night’s game. Frank hung back on the field, not entering the locker room.

When Gerard exited the locker room, dressed in his school clothes again, the last to leave as usual, Frank was still out on the field, laid out on his back, his unbroken arm spread out away from his body and his two legs spread away from his center as well, kind of like a starfish with one broken point.

There was a long moment where Gerard teetered outside of the locker room exit, debating whether or not to go down and talk to Frank. Maybe Frank didn’t have a ride. Maybe he needed help getting back up the stairs with his hurt ankle.

Gerard decided to go down. When he walked up to Frank, he loomed over him for a moment, letting his shadow pass over Frank’s closed eyelids. Frank took in a deep breath before slowly opening his eyes, almost carefully, as if he expected to get hit. The muscles in Frank’s shoulders visibly relaxed as he looked up at Gerard.

“You were right.” Frank starts, using his good hand to block the setting sun’s light from his eyes. His voice was slow and lazy. “About getting beat up if I kept teasing them.”

Gerard sighed, his suspicions confirmed, and lowered himself down to lay next to Frank on the soft turf. “Don’t blame yourself. They’re assholes.”

Frank turned his head so that he could look at Gerard. He moved his left hand so that it rested on the sling surrounding his right arm. “They did this on purpose, y’know. They said they didn’t want me to play anymore because they didn’t want me to touch them.”

“What happened?” Gerard’s voice was grim.

“I… I was making out with Jake.” Frank’s face was red. Gerard tried really hard not to be jealous. Now was so not the time for that. “And I--” Frank’s voice became defensive, “I wasn’t forcing him or anything, it was mutual. One-hundred percent mutual. He was really into it.” There was a pause, “But then some guys found us. And he acted all like I was trying to touch him without his consent.” Another pause, this one longer.

Gerard and Frank stared at each other for a long time before Frank closed his eyes hard and turned his head so that it faced the clouds again, “They dragged me outside and when they were done they just left me lying on the side of the street. I couldn’t get up and move because my ankle hurt too much. Hurley doesn’t have a lot of neighbors, so no one really noticed me until this one girl was leaving with her friends. Her car was parked a couple meters down from me, and she called an ambulance.”

Gerard felt sick. “I’ll tell my dad about it. He’ll get ‘em kicked off the team.”

But Frank just chuckled, dry and void of humor, “He’s already been made aware of the situation, G, and there’s no way he’s gonna be listening to my side. I’m just fucking lucky he didn’t kick me off of the team for sexual assault.”

Gerard pouted. He wanted to make things right. He wanted to protect Frank, “He’ll have to listen. They broke your fucking arm.”

Frank’s eyes opened again, squinting in the sunlight but turning to look at Gerard, “I’m glad you wanna help, but he’s not listening to anything that means he has to lose his top four senior players.”

It was irrational, but Gerard felt somehow at fault. “I’m sorry. I should’ve come. I just thought. I don’t know. I thought maybe I was being set up.”

Frank giggled and this time, although it still sounded tired, it wasn’t a completely empty sound. “No, Gerard. I really wanted you there.”

Gerard felt his body moving before he completely realized what he was doing, and the next thing the both of them knew, they were kissing. Gerard was leaning over Frank, hands braced on the turf on either side of Frank’s face, and Frank’s one good hand was reaching up to hold Gerard’s jaw in his palm. When Gerard pulled back a few inches to breathe, he whispered, “I lied about not being gay, by the way.”

A giggle erupted from Frank again, but this time it sounded almost like it usually did, loud and bursting with energy. “I know, G.”

 

Gerard finds himself among the crowd of people he used to go to school with, and he’s waiting, watching down the line to see a familiar, sweaty face emerge from the crowd.

When Frank steps out from a swarm of people trying to find their friends, their sons, their siblings, his eyes are drawn like a magnet to Gerard. And he looks so cute standing there, a scarf wrapped around his neck one too many times, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his fall coat. His mouth is covered by the scarf but Frank can still see it in his eyes when he smiles.

Frank can’t contain the burst of, “G! You made it!” As he expends the very last of his energy sprinting the few meters to Gerard and jumping up to wrap their bodies together. It’s a little inconvenient that he has to reach up to move Gerard’s scarf out of the way but then he really doesn’t care because he’s kissing Gerard in front of all those people, and he feels invincible.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave me a comment telling me how you liked (or didn't like lmao) the story! Your comment doesn't even have to make sense I just love reading comments and I'm thirsty for attention!! Yay!


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